Extract from the book written by Louise McLean (nee Wannag - originally Vanags her father's Latvian name)PART FOUR: Boat people from Bremerhaven

Australia wants, and will welcome, new healthy citizens who are determined to become good Australians.Arthur Caldwell, Australian Minister for Immigration, 1945

My father had many reasons for wanting to leave Germany. The war years and post-war years in Berlin were very hard on my parents. Not only was Berlin an unfamiliar city to my father, it was a city in the grip of a totalitarian regime and a horrible war. As a young man, my father found himself a stranger in a foreign city. Forced to leave his friends in Riga, he now had only his mother and father for company. Nor was Germany his home. Despite the fact that he was linguistically and in some respects culturally German, Latvia was the only country he felt he belonged in. Now with the Russian occupation of Latvia, there could be no thoughts of ever returning. Even as a young man my father could be charming and funny, but though he made many friends during his time in Berlin, these friendships were shallow and didn’t survive the war. What was the point in getting too close to anyone? How did you know where you would be after the war ended? Or if indeed you would still be alive?

It was eight years since the war ended. Although Germany was beginning to show signs of economic recovery, the psychological scars were proving harder to heal. The wounds ran deep. Reminders of the terrors of war and the misery of defeat were plain to see in the landscape and on the faces of the people who survived. How tempting it must have been to entertain thoughts of a country not tinged with the stain of war. My parents had thought about leaving Germany ever since the war had ended. They had briefly toyed with the idea of Brazil or Venezuela but the climate and complete foreignness of South America never really appealed. Canada was very tempting. Latvians were very welcome as migrants to Canada and the climatic conditions were very similar. My father was tempted by the ice and snow, my mother much less so.

The United States, that great economic and now military power, stood as the singular siren, beckoning the displaced and depressed of Europe to its shores. Like thousands of others, my parents applied and were granted sponsorship to migrate to the US. Letters went back and forth between my parents and their sponsors in Michigan until the letter announcing the impending arrival of a second child, my sister Linda, was met with silence. With no further correspondence, the sponsor relationship came to an end and with it went hopes of going to America. By 1953 the German economy was beginning to show real improvement. But for my parents, the idea of leaving was now firmly planted. Years of living in refugee settlements in Lübeck and in tiny, run down apartments in Düsseldorf, poorly paid jobs and few prospects were the push factors. A new life away from Europe, from the ever-present threat posed by Russia, the excitement and adventure of a new country in a new continent, this was the pull. It was easier to leave when you had few friends and a tiny family. With no brothers or sisters to cry for and few friends to miss, it was not that hard to leave. My mother had already left her mother and one cousin in Berlin. Her father was already dead, lung cancer claiming him at the age of fifty-two. My father’s parents were also back in Berlin. His aunt and uncle in Lübeck and a few cousins on his uncle’s side were all that he had.

It was late in the year 1953. Dad had read an advertisement in the local newspaper in Düsseldorf regarding immigration to Australia. The Jacobsons, family friends from Latvia who had migrated a few years earlier, lived in a little house in the Melbourne suburb of Moonee Ponds. Emmy Jacobson was a friend of my grandmother, Jadwiga. My parents were reluctant to ask strangers for any kind of help. It was not surprising then that they did not actually contact the Jacobsons until four months after they first arrived in Australia.

Immigration papers completed by officials at the Australian Embassy in Koln describe my father’s suitability as a migrant. An official saw my mother and her two young daughters and thankfully deemed them to be ‘quite acceptable’. Faint praise indeed! I am sure Dad, on the other hand, would have been pleased with the way he was described in the opening comment.

The applicant is a good intelligent type. Unfortunately he has not the requisite documents to enable him to go straight into his trade. His experience with research work in the metal industry and particularly with fine mechanical work should be of value to such firms as EMAIL at Orange. Wife and children seen. Quite acceptable.

It was only a matter of weeks before the Wannags packed their meagre belongings and were on their way to Australia. Mum wrote about the journey:

We had to be in Bremerhaven by the 13th November, 1953. After we had sold all our furniture and packed our two wooden cases, a travel bag and a suitcase, we were ready to leave Düsseldorf. A workmate of dad’s offered to take us to Bremerhaven in his Volkswagen because he had to go there on business. We accepted his offer and we managed to get everything stacked in the little car. The two wooden boxes were of course taken by train. But dad, Astrid, Linda, the driver and I fitted in the car plus the suitcase and large travel bag. I also had Linda’s potty with me in a string bag. Linda was 20 months old and toilet trained, but she did her business only in this little potty.

After many hours car travel we arrived in Bremerhaven which is just outside Bremen on the North Sea. We were put into a quite nice camp, where we stayed for three or four days. Then it was time to board the ship, the ‘Anna Salen’. We were driven by bus to the harbour and when I saw our ship my heart sank. It looked so small and unimpressive, not a bit like the large ocean liner I had envisaged. A plank was placed between the pier and the boat and we just walked over the plank. It was more like a ferry, not a ship that had to take us all the way to Australia. There were about 350 Germans on board and after we had been on the water for about 24 hours, we already had engine trouble. After the engine had been fixed, we proceeded through the English Channel and encountered a heavy storm in the Gulf of Bisquaja [Biscay] along the Spanish Coast. Everybody was seasick of course. After we came through the street of Gibraltar we entered the Mediterranean Sea. Our first port was Piraes, the harbour outside Athens in Greece. Nobody was allowed on shore but we had a good look at Piraes from the ship and found that the place looked terribly poor and dilapidated. Next morning we took about 700–800 Greeks on board. They were all pretty poor looking and nobody had suitcases; they all had cardboard boxes tied with string. That was their only luggage. Now the ship was really full. The Greeks settled almost immediately on the upper deck, so that nobody else could use it. They used up every square metre. Among the Germans we had a lot of strange types too. I just kept wondering where they all came from, because I had never met anyone like them in my 29 years in Germany.

After Piraes we crossed the Mediterranean and stopped at Suez, before entering the Suez Canal. The Suez Canal is not very wide and the landscape is very barren on both sides. Since we left Germany in November which is a cold winter month in Europe we now were feeling the difference in temperature. It got very hot and we has to get used to the change in temperature. By the time we came to Aden and entered the ocean, a lot of people were feeling unwell. The little children especially found it hard to adjust to the heat. From Aden we went straight to Fremantle which meant we were at sea for 14 days without seeing any land.The ship’s hospital was by now full of children and elderly people. Linda was among them. They all had pneumonia and visiting the sick was not allowed. Two babies died at sea, one German boy and a Greek boy. Both were only ten months old. It was terrible.

The food was awful too and everything tasted like the preservatives which had been used to keep the food fresh. But then again, a lot of people weren’t eating very much because they were too seasick. One day they ran out of drinking water, so they tried making tea with salt water. People got very upset and started to riot.Astrid, Linda and I shared a cabin with a German woman and her two sons, who were four and six years old. Dad had to sleep with about 80 men in one big storage room. Our cabin had no window and was very hot. We were on the Anna Salen for almost 4 weeks when we arrived in Fremantle. We were allowed to leave the ship for the first time for about two hours and had a quick look at Fremantle harbour.

For eight year old Astrid, the sea voyage was more of an adventure than it was for her parents:

After months of hoping and wishing I finally had my beautiful, brand new Hudora roller skates. Good-bye to broken straps, bloodied knees and grazed hands. So you can understand, I was less than impressed when mum and dad told me that we were all going to Australia.Before I could show them off to all my friends, my precious skates had to be packed up again. Well, I had already waited long enough but I believed that in just a few more weeks I would be happily skating along some other footpath, albeit on the other side of the globe! The boat trip was quite an adventure for me. If I had ever wondered what a holiday cruise would be like, then this was probably it. In hindsight I doubt that mum and dad felt the same.

We spent quite a bit of time on the deck of the Anna Salen. Because there was not a lot to do or see, most of the time we just sat around and waited our turn for meal times. I guess for mum and dad it was one of those rare times where they had little to do other than relax. The music that continually played throughout the ship definitely helped. ‘La Mer’ was a favourite!

I have no recollection of the food but there was always this peculiar smell. Not exactly bad, just different. I have never experienced that smell since.

Linda was just eighteen months old and very active so every now and then when mum needed a rest, I was on toddler duty. Now imagine a decent sized deck with all sorts of naval paraphernalia including life boats stored end to end with quite large gaps in between. I’m talking a gap wide enough for a little toddler to fall through and then tumble down into the ‘briny’! And then imagine little Linda wanting me to play ‘catch-me-if-you-can’!!! No surprise that I became a nervous wreck. Luckily mum was on hand to resume toddler duty so I could get away for a little bit of peace and quiet. Yes, I know, poor me!

It was on one of those days when I had taken a wrong turn on the way down to our cabin that I found myself in foreign territory. (To this day my sense of direction has not improved!) There was a small gathering of people by the railing, all very quiet except for one who was saying something in another language. Some people started to cry out loudly and then to my shock and horror one of them pushed something large over the railing and into the sea. I had just witnessed a sea burial! The event really shook me up and I figured it was punishment for stupidly taking a wrong turn. Toddler duty was a welcome relief after that!

On the top deck there was a swimming pool. What would seem quite large to an eight year old, to an adult this pool was probably no bigger than a Jacuzzi. Nevertheless, a very important tradition was played out in that pool as we crossed the equator. Someone was ‘dressed’ as Neptune and apparently the idea was for him to make sure that everyone got very wet! As it was very hot, being wet was a welcome relief. Music and dancing followed and everyone seemed very happy. Well, on that day at least.

This voyage proved to be the last for the Anna Salen. Having completed its obligation to the Wannags, it was declared too old and too small for any further journeys and was sold as just another lump of scrap metal.

Arriving in Australia

The gentleman’s name is Wong. There are many Wongs in the Chinese community, but I have to say that two Wongs do not make a White.Arthur Calwell, Australian Minister for Immigration, 1947

Kurt and Anneliese, with their young daughters Astrid and Linda, arrived in Port Melbourne in December, 1953. They carried a small suitcase in each hand and a few pounds in their pockets. In record-breaking heat, the young family walked the gangplank towards a new life, sweltering in European winter clothes. After the initial migrant processing at Station Pier, they were almost immediately loaded onto a train that took them several hundred kilometres north-east to Bonegilla Migrant Hostel on the shores of Lake Hume.

Looking out of the train window at the dry, undulating and, for them, completely alien Australian countryside, I can picture my mother and father sitting in complete silence. My mother, in her pragmatism, would have resigned herself early on to making the most of each new experience. She was not a sentimental person, believing that you lived with the decisions you made. You didn’t cry over spilled milk but rather, you lay in the bed you made. She would have distracted her mind from any negative thoughts by making sure her young daughters were sitting properly and behaving themselves. But what would have been zipping through my father’s mind as he sat on the train is far more difficult for me to imagine. Kurt’s jaw would be clenched, his front teeth tapping almost in time with the clattering of the train, occasionally and deliberately biting his lips. He would be squinting his eyes, trying to focus on something in the distance and then refocus on one of his fellow passengers. His fingers would be in almost constant motion, clenching his fists, drumming his fingers lightly in the air or on the window. There would be no relaxation or sleep for my father, of this I am sure. But what were his thoughts? Fear, regret, disappointment, loss? No doubt. My father was a terrible pessimist. He believed that if you expected the worst, anything better was a pleasant surprise. So perhaps this was what he was thinking: Australia so far was not as bad he had imagined and perhaps things would work out after all.

Mum continued the story:

We arrived in Port Melbourne on December 19, 1953 on board the Anna Salen. We had been at sea for five weeks and when we saw Melbourne at last, we were naturally quite excited to come to the end of our journey.

But it was not quite over yet. After we went through the customs office and immigration department formalities, we had to board a train which was standing right on Station Pier. The day of our arrival was the hottest December day for 50 years (or so we were told) and we were really quite unsuitably dressed for the weather. We were wearing the same clothes that we wore when we left Germany on November 14th, namely our winter clothes. These were by far the bulkiest items that we owned so it made sense to wear them rather than try to stuff them in our already full suitcases.

The train started its seven hour journey to take us to the Bonegilla migrant camp. The train took us through the northern suburbs of Melbourne and then through the open countryside, a landscape that was very strange to us. Everywhere we looked there was yellow grass with the occasional dead tree dotted here and there. No fields, no forests and no villages. At the same time, we were quite excited to come to the end of our long journey and since it was very hot and seemed to be getting hotter, we all began to strip. Everybody was sitting in their underwear but we did not care. After about four hours of train travel the train stopped and we were told that we were now in the township of Benalla. The good ladies of Benalla had prepared lunch for us to welcome the ‘New Australians!’ So we all had to get dressed quite quickly. We all got out of the station where we were presented with a typical Aussie salad lunch in the station waiting room. Lunch consisted of a lettuce leaf, a slice of corned beef, a piece of tomato, mayonnaise and a slice of buttered white bread. A bit different from what we were used to but under the circumstances, very welcomed. The only one to miss out on the lunch was me!

Linda was two years old and had fallen asleep on the train. I stayed on board to look after her while Kurt and Astrid went to get their lunch. Dad was supposed to come back to look after Linda so that I could go and get my lunch. By the time I got to the waiting room, everything was already gone. Bad luck!

Four hours more on the train and then we stopped in an open paddock. Everybody out, we were told. No station, no nothing, only yellow grass as far as the eye could see. We were all a bit bewildered but eventually buses started arriving that would take us to our new home at Bonegilla. This home was a collection of cement sheet and corrugated iron huts which were very basic. Two people were allocated one room but since we had four in our little family we were given two rooms next to each other. The problem was that each room only had a door to the outside, so we took out a piece of the Masonite lining which had never been properly fixed, and made two adjoining rooms! There was a bed for each of us and a little wardrobe and dressing table. We made it quite homely in a very short time and were really very glad to have a roof over our heads. It was, after all, summer and the Hume Weir was not far away. The place had the atmosphere of a summer camp; we all ate in big halls and the food consisted mainly of lamb chops and sausages with plenty of yellow semolina. Everything was either fatty or starchy. We certainly were not about to starve. Luckily there was a general store so one could buy a few supplementary food items.

We stayed in Bonegilla for three months, from December 20 to March 17, 1954. Kurt worked as a kitchen hand, his duties consisting mainly of washing the huge greasy baking trays. Most of the so-called cooks were Polish or Ukrainian or Yugoslavian; the only Australians I can ever remember meeting were at the employment office. The only jobs they were offering were labouring jobs laying railway lines or digging trenches.

After three months of living in Bonegilla, Kurt left on his own to travel to Melbourne in search of a job and somewhere to live. All he had was an address: 161 Park Street, Moonee Ponds. Emmy Jacobson lived there with her husband and their daughter. Emmy was quite elderly and a friend of Tante Ella and Opa Erich. They had owned a large orchard outside of Riga and when Emmy’s daughter Rita started college in Riga, she boarded with Tante Ella. The Jacobsons were our first and only contact in Melbourne. Through them, Kurt learned of a German engineer who worked at Wilcolator in Keilor Road in Essendon. It was Mr. Post, the German engineer, who gave Kurt a job as a draughtsman. His starting wage was 17 pounds per week which was good money given that the basic wage at the time was only 12 pounds and 6 shillings. Mr. Post also organised some accommodation. This was a new bungalow, all painted green. It had three rooms with new lino on the floor but with no gas or electricity. The only water tap was in the front yard. It was also unfurnished except for a divan. Dad rented the bungalow for 3 pounds per week. It was situated quite a distance from any other houses so at least there was privacy!

Astrid was old enough to remember leaving Germany and arriving in a new and completely foreign land. She was young enough, though, to see it through the innocent, hopeful eyes of a child:

As a young girl living in Germany the closest I ever got to a country experience was in an undeveloped area behind our block of flats in Düsseldorf. The building had not long been completed so there were still mounds of dirt and rubble at the back which in area was roughly the size of a football ground. So in winter, when it snowed, this was a perfect place for dad and I to go for some fun with our sled, up and down the snow-covered mounds until we were both exhausted, or until dad got sick of it. During the summer this was also a perfect place to hang out with my friend Steffi Loch where the last remaining blackberry bushes still yielded enough berries for a well-deserved snack.

Düsseldorf was just a distant memory when the Anna Salen docked in Fremantle after what seemed like years at sea. So this was Australia, hot and dry and dusty. On the other side of the world children would be having fun in the snow with their dads, or keeping warm roller skating on footpaths!

Before we regained our ‘land legs’ we were back on the boat and heading to our final destination, Melbourne. I’m not sure if my memory of disembarking is really my own memory; I have seen too many movies in which hundreds of people are standing on the top deck waving and shouting excitedly to waiting friends and families on the pier. It might have been like that although we wouldn’t have had anybody waiting for us.

But there was a train waiting at the pier to take us to Bonegilla which was a camp for newly arrived foreigners who had no fixed destination. The trip took several hours during which my Australian ‘country’ experience was confirmed. Certainly bigger than the paddock behind our flat in Düsseldorf, a million times bigger. It would be a while before I found out that the brown, dusty, endless landscape would turn green when summer was over.

So when we finally arrived in Bonegilla it was of no surprise to me that the surrounds were also brown and dusty. This I assumed was how Australia looked all the time. There were many huts, the likes of which I had never seen before. Before too long Mum, Dad, Linda and I were settled into one of them. Mum, being the enterprising mum that she was, chose a hut with a tree by the door. The only bit of shade and greenery available. Lucky us!

We soon realised however that we had a regular visitor, one who only came at night time, sat in our tree, growled and peed on anyone unfortunate enough to stand still for too long! So, Australia was hot, dry and dusty where smelly possums lived in trees!

There were a couple of nice surprises in store for me. On one occasion we were taken by bus with several other families to the Hume weir for a picnic. We sat on soft green grass and played in the water. This experience didn’t fit my first impressions of Australia at all! Not long after, mum took me for another bus ride, this time to a town called Albury. The reason for this was to buy me a new pair of sandals for a very special occasion.

Wearing my best dress and my beautiful new white sandals, I joined all the other school-aged children from the camp for a trip to Benalla where we were to greet… The Queen!!! There I was, standing by the road side with hundreds of other excited children and adults, cheering and waving our little flags at the lovely, smiling lady in her beautiful car. If a beautiful Queen came to visit all the way from England then Australia couldn’t be so bad after all!